


Household of Three

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha John, Alpha Lestrade, Alpha/Omega/Alpha, Double Anal Penetration, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Sherlock, Oral Sex, Porn, Spit Roast, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3954874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sherlock is really quite a good omega. Quite passionate and sensitive. Very eager to please, believe it or not. I think it’s about time I shared him, and it’s an excellent opportunity for him to apologize to you for his atrocious behaviour. What do you say, mate? Want to <i>fuck</i> him?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Household of Three

**Author's Note:**

> "ménage à trois" literally means "household of three"

John greets Greg with a smile at the door once he arrives at 221B. John’s invited him over for tea to apologize for Sherlock being a downright terror at a crime scene not three days ago. It’s quite unnecessary—mouthing off like that is typical Sherlock behaviour, and after years of soliciting his expertise, Greg is so used to the abuse he routinely spews to take them personally—but John was insistent, and since his divorce more than a year ago Greg can do worse than a friendly social visit on a Saturday afternoon.

Once he’s at the top of the landing, he smells _it_. What every alpha is biologically incapable of resisting: the heady scent of an omega entering oestrus.

As there is only one omega living at 221B, there’s no question of just who is in heat. Yet John had still invited him over.

He should make this quick then: drop in, say hello, and beat a hasty retreat before the sweet, irresistible scent overpowers his senses and renders him base and powerless to his alpha instincts. Leave his friends to get on with their business.

John invites him to sit on the sofa and offers him tea as if it’s an ordinary visit between friends and his mate isn’t rolling around in the bedroom ripe with heat, desperate to be fucked.

“There’s really no need for this.” Greg takes a big gulp of the hot tea. It scalds his tongue, taking his mind off the scent permeating the flat. “No offence taken.”

John shakes his head gravely. “He can be difficult, but what he said was still inexcusable. Especially when everyone was working so hard to catch the suspect.”

It’s kind of John to say so. Greg’s team had been pulling sixteen-hour days tracking down a skilfully pulled off money laundering scheme. Greg himself hadn’t had more than five hours of continuous sleep in days. Everyone, including Sherlock, had been on edge, and if Greg held a grudge for every rude, appalling behaviour from Sherlock Holmes, he’d have long disintegrated into dust and bones from all the bitterness by now.

Change of tactics. “Apology accepted then. It’s already forgotten. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll let you, ah, go take care of Sherlock.” Greg quickly tosses back the rest of the tea and stands up.

John raises a hand to stop him. “Please, mate. I invited you here for a reason. You don’t really think I would call you here at an inconvenient time, do you?

“What is it then?” It must be important if John has deliberately called him here while Sherlock is entering heat.’’

“Simple. I invited you here to join me in sharing Sherlock’s heat.”

Greg blinks, unable to believe what he just heard. John is still smiling, expression friendly and good-natured as ever, as if he’s proposing an innocent table game among friends instead of a threesome with his omega in heat. Greg’s about to beg his pardon but John continues.

“Sherlock is really quite a good omega. Quite passionate and sensitive. Very eager to please, believe it or not. I think it’s about time I shared him, and it’s an excellent opportunity for him to apologize to you for his atrocious behaviour. What do you say, mate? Want to _fuck_ him?”

Greg’s mouth goes dry. His trousers are suddenly too tight.

Sherlock is quite attractive—one would have to be blind not to acknowledge his looks—but Greg’s never thought of him that way before. Gorgeous, caustic, and barbly isn’t his type, and he’d taken Sherlock under his wing immediately after they met years ago for him to perceive Sherlock as anything other than a wayward, troubled young genius in need of protection.

But omegas are the fairest of all the sexes, and, as an alpha, Greg is not immune to their charms.

“That brain of his is not just for crime scenes, you know. He deduces everything, what you like, what gets you off, your kinks and fantasies. Whatever he finds, he’ll _give_ it to you.”

Wetting his lips, Greg can feel his weak reservations crumbling. Resisting is a futile battle, especially with that tantalizing scent in the air.

John’s grin widens. “Like I said, he’s a _very_ good omega, eager to please. He does whatever I tell him to. You in?”

“God, yes,” Greg exhales, giving in.

The full force of the seductive scent hits him once they enter the bedroom. Greg’s eyes are immediately riveted to the absolutely breathtaking sight before him.

Splayed wantonly on the bed is a sweating, flushed Sherlock in the nude, his long, lean legs spread open without shyness, displaying his dainty, erect cock.

He props himself up on a thin elbow like a languishing queen about to address her subjects. Even in the dim light, Greg can see how round and dilated his pupils are.

Greg’s cock twitches. It’s been too long since he last shared a heat with an omega. He hasn’t dated much since his divorce, instead throwing himself into work to forget his pathetic love life.

“John,” Sherlock whines. “I need you to touch me. _Please_.”

John bends down to peck an affectionate kiss to his temple. “I know, love. I brought a guest over for you. You’ll be good to him, won’t you? Show him a lovely time?”

Sherlock’s glazed eyes dart to Greg. He nods, tilting his head to let John nuzzle the red bondbite.

John reaches up to pinch a nipple, his tanned skin dark against the milky expanse of Sherlock’s chest. Then his hand roams downward to fondle Sherlock’s small, pretty cock before delivering a gentle smack to the side of his thigh.

Like a good, little plaything, Sherlock promptly flips over and presents his arse. No one can deny that for someone so skinny, Sherlock Holmes has one glorious rump. The globes are round and perky, made to be groped. The back of his thighs glisten with omega slick.

John’s fingers run down the cleft of his arse before sinking into the wetness. Slick gushes over his knuckles as they pump in and out of Sherlock’s wet hole.

John looks back up at Greg. “Come on. I promise he won’t bite. Well, unless you want him to.”

Greg hesitates, still feeling like an intruder in their intimacy. But John gestures at Sherlock’s delectable arse in open invitation.

“Go on, feel how wet he is.”

Sherlock’s skin is every bit as soft and smooth as it looks. Greg cups the beautiful curve of one round cheek and squeezes. Then he dips his fingers into the cleft and traces the round pucker there before breaching it.

Sherlock whimpers, jerks back to try to impale himself deeper on Greg’s fingers. Greg can’t believe how desperate and needy he is: the great consulting detective with his superior intellect and acid tongue reduced to a hot, helpless mess, at the mercy of his omega desires.

Greg’s clothes are suddenly too hot and uncomfortable against his skin and needs to be shed _now_.

As if sensing his thoughts, John murmurs to Sherlock, “Why don’t you make our guest more comfortable, love?”

Without a word, Sherlock gets up to unbutton Greg’s shirt and undo his belt and trousers. Once Greg’s erection is freed, Sherlock drops to his knees on the carpet, and his tongue darts out to trace a prominent vein on the underside of Greg’s cock. He presses the tip of his tongue into the slit, making Greg hiss, and expertly takes the frenulum between his lips, all before popping the crown of Greg’s cock into his mouth.

Oh fuck. Greg’s thrusting in before he realizes it, but Sherlock takes it like a professional, lets his mouth be used without recoiling.

God, he _is_ well trained. And very well behaved.

Eyes watching Greg through his long eyelashes, he bobs his head, works Greg’s erection like he’s made for sucking cock, like his whole life purpose is to take an alpha cock down his throat.

“Gorgeous,” Greg marvels, admiring the sight of Sherlock, his cheeks hollow, his swollen red lips stretched tight over his alpha girth.

John grins with pride, pleased by the compliment. “Isn’t he?”

Sherlock’s so _perfect_ like this, on his knees with a cock in his mouth, that Greg feels regret he can’t shut Sherlock up like this whenever Sherlock gives him lip at a crime scene. Just push him down to his knees and stick his cock into his mouth for all to see just what Sherlock needs.

Grasping the base of Greg’s cock with one hand, Sherlock reaches his other hand down to attend to his own neglected erection only for John to slap an arsecheek in reprimand.

“No touching yourself, love. You’re going to come just from pleasing your alphas. Is that clear, darling?”

Sherlock nods around Greg’s cock and withdraws his hand with an obedience Greg can’t believe he’s capable of. He stills to relax his throat before carefully deepthroating Greg’s length. Greg feels his cock hit the back of his throat.

“Grab his hair. He likes that,” John says, watching from behind Sherlock.

Greg doesn’t need to be told twice. Threading his fingers through the thick, silken locks, he holds Sherlock’s head in place between his legs to fuck that mouth.

Tears spring up in the corners of Sherlock’s eyes, and his face turns red. He’s gagging on Greg’s cock, and the sight only makes Greg ram into his mouth harder and faster.

Greg knows the instant John penetrates Sherlock, feels it in the way Sherlock chokes on _his_ cock, his silvery eyes rolling back. Every thrust John delivers from behind forces Sherlock further down onto Greg’s cock.

Greg’s eyes meet John’s, and they share a satisfied grin. Joined like this, Greg and John both rutting into Sherlock, they form an erotic, bastardized trinity on the floor of 221B.

Shortly after, Sherlock is seizing around Greg’s cock, wracking from the force of an orgasm. Oh, sweet Jesus, he actually _came_ from having a cock down his throat and another up his arse. Without even being touched.

And his heat only guarantees that many more orgasms will follow.

“Look at you,” John croons in delight, rubbing soothing circles on Sherlock’s back. “Coming just from that, you filthy little cockslut.” He draws out of Sherlock, his turgid, heavy cock shining with Sherlock’s slick, and manoeuvres his bondmate, now soft and pliant from his orgasm, onto the bed.

Sherlock flops bonelessly onto his back, the perfect picture of debauchery. His curls are wild, spots of colour high on his elegant cheekbones, and his svelte stomach is painted with spurts of his own semen.

Without thinking, Greg settles in between his legs. Now it’s his turn to enjoy Sherlock’s arse. Throwing one long leg over his shoulder and hooking the other over his elbow, he waits a few beats for Sherlock to recover his wits before pushing in until he’s fully sheathed inside him.

Sherlock’s sweet moans transform to desperate cries once Greg begins banging him in earnest. Still oversensitive from coming, every ram at his prostate is too much for Sherlock to take. Tears stream down his face and are wiped away by John.

Kneeling by Sherlock’s head, John tenderly smoothes back errant, sweaty curls from his forehead, his own erection pressing against Sherlock’s cheek. Sherlock reaches up and places his cock into his mouth.

“That’s it. You feel so wonderful, love,” John groans in appreciation as, holding Sherlock’s head still, he plunges into his mouth. Saliva and precum dribble obscenely down Sherlock’s chin.

Greg watches in fascination as Sherlock’s spent dainty cock fills up again. He enjoys being used like this. For all that he belittles everyone around him and scorns their inferior intelligence, Sherlock actually likes being used for the pleasure of others. But given his propensity for attention and praise, maybe that isn’t such a stretch after all.

John withdraws his cock from Sherlock’s mouth not long after and signals Greg to stop. Greg pulls out and tries to catch his breath. John peers down at Sherlock lovingly, thumbing away his tears, and tsks in admonishment. “Look how selfish you’re being, darling. How can you let your guest do all the work?”

Chastised, Sherlock swings his legs over the bed and gets up, not without some difficulty. With a strength unexpected from his slender frame, he pushes a bemused Greg down onto the bed and straddles his hips.

Taking hold of Greg’s erection, Sherlock positions it at his entrance and lowers himself onto it, exhaling a breathless gasp upon penetration. Once seated all the way in, he begins riding Greg, bouncing happily on his cock with a vigour revealing how much he relishes this. He’s intent on doing the physical work so Greg can just lie back and enjoy being brought to orgasm.

Greg does just that, admiring the slender white column of Sherlock’s body bobbing over him. He can’t remember the last time he’s had such a pleasant, luxurious, _effortless_ shag.

The mattress dips around his legs as John kneels behind Sherlock and stills him. He guides the tip of his erection to where Sherlock and Greg are intimately joined and nudges it where Sherlock’s rim is stretched around Greg’s girth.

Sherlock whimpers but obediently holds still as John tries to press his dick inside his tight arsehole. John is tenacious as ever, and God, Greg can _feel_ it when Sherlock’s hole yields under the pressure and John’s hard flesh rubs against his own.

Just the head is in. John pushes in slowly with the utmost care not to hurt his omega, pausing several times to let Sherlock adjust to the intrusion.

To his credit, Sherlock, despite his keening and the tears pricking his eyes, is taking two thick, fully engorged alpha cocks up his arse rather admirably. His petite omega cock is still hard and erect.

“So good, darling. You’re doing splendidly,” John praises as he starts gently rocking.

For his part, Greg softly rolls his hips upwards, loving the friction of Sherlock’s tight arse and the other alpha erection against his.

When they’re finally rocking in sync, Sherlock holding himself up on trembling elbows while being pounded into by two alphas, his slick easing their thrusts, Greg thinks he just might be experiencing the closest thing to heaven on earth.

Their movements become more frantic and intense, their heavy panting punctuated by the lewd sounds of skin slapping skin and Sherlock’s moans and whimpers as he’s rutted into.

Greg can feel his orgasm building, his knot growing and getting firmer. So is John’s, he can feel.

They share a look over Sherlock’s shoulder, thinking of the same thing. Greg reaches for Sherlock’s prick and pumps it while John circles Sherlock’s thin torso to pinch his nipple. The desired effect is instantaneous.

Eyes rolling up, head tossing back, Sherlock shudders with the force of his orgasm, his hole contracting to trigger both alphas’ releases. One final thrust each, and they’re coming powerfully inside Sherlock, their swollen knots locking them inside him.

With a groan, Sherlock collapses into Greg’s arms. John catches himself and rests to the side to prevent crushing them both.

Dazed from such a powerful orgasm, Greg isn’t expecting the sweet, almost tender kiss from Sherlock. Sherlock’s full lips, swollen and abused as they are, are as soft as petals. He gasps into Greg’s mouth and his nails dig into Greg’s shoulder as John bites down into his neck over the original bondbite.

They’re connected in such a beautiful circle with Sherlock as the crux holding them together. Greg hasn’t felt such intimacy or enjoyed such a complete, satisfying union with another since his divorce—or the years leading up to it, if he’s honest with himself. That John is willing to share his omega with him is a magnificent gift.

Sherlock snuggles into the juncture of his neck and shoulder like a cat, hand curling around his clavicle, content to be encircled in the warmth of two alphas. Greg could never have imagined him to be cuddler.

John plants a soft kiss on Sherlock’s shoulder and gives Greg a lazy grin. Greg grins back.


End file.
